


Stranded

by holhorsinaroundafterdark (holhorsinaround)



Category: Original Work, World of Warcraft
Genre: Humiliation, NSFW, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holhorsinaround/pseuds/holhorsinaroundafterdark
Summary: Alar finds himself in a shitty situation after being separated from his team. He awakens in a cave, chained in place and quickly realizes he can neither escape nor get to a bathroom. What's a Troll to do?





	

Alar awoke to find himself in a dimly lit room, his vision blurry and his body sore. He shivered, not helping the pain. He felt like he was suspended in air, almost weightless but twice as heavy than he remembered. With his mind dizzy and his head spinning, it took him far longer than he would have appreciated to realize he was chained in place.

He glanced his eyes around. His vision was already bad but coupled with the blurriness it was hard to make out where he was. He wasn't in a room. As far as he could tell, it looked like he was in the back of a cave based on the dim moonlight coming through the cracks and entrance further away, near the edge of his vision. He saw a lump off to the side, a dark lump of fabric, and realized he was missing his work shirt. He shivered again as a breeze blew through the cave.

A light plinking caught his attention to his right, likely water. He spent a few minutes allowing himself to clear the haze growing in his mind and grew more aware of his surroundings while testing his body.

His wrists were bound, based on his weak tugs, and his arms were over his head. He had enough pull in the shackles at his wrists pull his arms down, just barely touching his head. He rolled his shoulders and clenched his jaw as a wave of pain shot through his collarbone and shoulder muscles.

He was kneeling. He tried to stand and found that he was both too weak to move and that his calves were shackled just near his knees. That explained the sore cramping he felt in his thighs.

The plinking nearby continued.

To his last memory, the sun had been out when he'd got separated from Tyrestra and the others. Lucien--he could try to contact Lucien. He looked toward the entrance, eyes glancing around slowly, and tried to link their minds together to let them know that he was okay.

Every attempt was met with a resounding headache and he groaned audibly, his eyes closing as he sunk as low as the chains would let him. His stomach felt weak, so he could assume that he'd been here for a few hours. He recognized the signs of hunger and began to worry about dehydration.

He felt even more tired than before and his consciousness began to dissipate in and out. He struggled, trying to keep himself awake.

 

Alar re-awoke some time later and was more sore and tired than before. His stomach was heavy, and his shoulders and thighs were cramping worse than when he'd first awoken. He shuffled his arms and let the chain links clink against the metal on his wrists.

He barely heard it, his senses dulled. Faintly, he heard the water continue to plink onto the cave floor near him.

As best as he could, he tried to shuffle his legs to try and relieve some of the pain. He tried sitting his ass against his calves, and was surprised that he could almost do so. He felt a rise in his adrenaline and tugged at the chains again, this time with a bit more strength, and exhaled loudly. 

His eyes glanced toward the entrance of the cave as paranoia began to seep into his mind. He didn't have any memory of what happened between reaching for Tyrestra before he fell from the cliff and where he was now. 

He thought back to the several hostage situations he'd personally been in during his eight years of mercenary work. Most had, at the very least, involved one other person. Siouxie had been there during most of them. Whoever had captured them was usually there.

And he'd never been strung up in a cave.

The panic began to rise in his chest at the realization he was alone in this.

He shook his arms again and let the motion move through his body. He knew better than to waste energy yelling for help that wouldn't be there and wouldn't come. He shook his arms again, this time focusing on the pull of the chain as he determined the weak spots.

Chains always had a weak spot.

The motion reverberated through him a second time and his stomach stirred. He pressed his tongue against his lips and breathed out slowly as a realization came to his mind. He let his arms hang limp in their cuffs and slouched slightly, his breath shaky.

He really had to pee.

His mind shifted, automatically focusing on the plinking water. He closed his eyes and shook his arms again, not wanting to think about this right now. He tilted his head back despite the cramping in his neck and looked above him, eyes scanning the chain links. He felt more desperate in his actions as the weight of his bladder became more apparent to him.

His bare chest rose and fell as his eyes scanned the ceiling and the chain, and a bead of sweat fell down his cheek behind his tusk.

Royally, this situation sucked, and overall he felt humiliated. He tugged at the chains again, breathing harder, and couldn't readily see a weak chink in the chains, or any spot for him to tug it free. There wasn't enough light in the cave for him to properly observe. He muttered a curse in Zandali.

More beads of sweat fell down his forehead and cheeks and he closed his eyes as he breathed. He shook his arms harder, this time vocalizing in desperation and anger. The plinking continued. The chains didn't budge. Silently, he began to accept that he wasn't getting out of here anytime soon, that he wasn't going to be able to free himself.

He really, really had to pee.

He sunk back down as far as the chains would let him, that agonizing almost-sitting position with the warmth of his calves and ass just an inch apart.

His head tilted back down and he felt hot tears against his eyelids, threatening to fall down his cheeks. He pressed his lips together, tongue against them, and weakly shook his arms a final time. His hair fell over his eyes as his chest rose and fell.

He let out a faint groan, looked back up to the ceiling in defeat, and flexed his fingers. His ears flattened back as warmth involuntarily pooled in his work uniform, the hot liquid filling the crotch of his pants before spilling down his pants legs and pooling at his knees.

His face grew hot with shame as he relieved himself; he began shivering with the change in temperature around his thighs.

He hoped that nobody would find him anytime soon; let the urine dry first, let him get over the embarrassment. However, in the back of his mind, he couldn't hide from the arousal he felt at potentially being found as a wet, dirty mess by Tyrestra.


End file.
